


Wrong Name (aka why Adrien Agreste should not be allowed to talk during sex)

by BullySquadess



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Blowjobs, F/M, Reveal, exchange, gratuitous overuse of lip biting as a plot device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9219452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BullySquadess/pseuds/BullySquadess
Summary: Ladybug stared up at him in disbelief, eyes like saucers beneath her ever-present mask. If she noticed the tendril of spit and… well… other hanging from the edge of her lips, she didn’t remark on it, instead blinking fast with an expression that might have been anything from shock to turmoil to full-on rage.Adrien idly wondered if he could make to the bathroom before her with his pants around his ankles.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_miiraculer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_miiraculer/gifts).



> Here's my flash exchange gift for a_miiraculer! Your request said your life was lacking Ladrien, hopefully this helps make up for it!

He hadn’t been expecting her to come that night.

But _boy_  was he glad she did.

Adrien’s fingers sunk into the plush cushioning of his couch, leather squeaking softly as his digits slid along its taut surface. Both his pants and boxers laid tangled around his ankles, banished by the same greedy hands that had playfully (but _forcefully_ , just how he liked it) shoved his body down onto the sofa just minutes before.

The same hands that had seized his chin for a scorching kiss.

The same hands that had raked electrifying nails down his chest.

The same hands that had parted his thighs, wrapped around his growing arousal, and brought him to her eager, grinning, _devious_  little mouth.

No matter how many times she did this (and did it with such blatant enthusiasm), Adrien would never not be floored by the fact someone so _almighty_  would want to drop to her knees for _him_.

He was personally of the opinion that she should never have to kneel — Why his girlfriend braved the cold, hard floor of his bedroom when she could have just as easily laid back in his 2,000 thread count monstrosity of a bed and let him shower her body in every pleasure he could possibly give her was beyond him — but with the way those blue eyes smoldered, lips pursed into a smile as they suckled the flushed head of his cock, Adrien couldn’t find it in himself to argue.

As it turns out, there were ways for one to rule from their knees.

Her hot mouth engulfed him inch by glorious inch, teasingly slow and then _mind-meltingly_  sudden, until she was all but kissing the golden hairs dusted along his groin. One, two deep bobs of her head, then she was back to swirling her tongue along the tip, pretending as if she didn’t know her actions were actively driving him insane.

(They were. And she did.)

At Adrien’s frustrated whine, she withdrew, cold air hitting his slick erection as she cooed pet names into the bites she nipped along his skin.

“Handsome boy~”

Her hand dragged an _exquisite_  stroke up the length of his shaft.

“Love of my life~”

Her teeth sunk into the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh.

_“Mon Chaton…”_

Adrien’s eyes screwed shut, a hiss of pleasure escaping him as his head lulled back will a dull thud.

It had been only three weeks after she’d first started showing up his window — back in the days of stuttering flirtations and chaste kisses laid upon flushed cheeks — when the cat (Plagg) had lept out of bag (trashcan). Blinded with panic, Adrien had babbled some excuse about a rat infestation, but the bewildered look on his love’s face had proven it was far too late for diversions.

She’d seen everything. She’d realized who it was she’d been baring her soul to every night for nearly a month. She’d finally known it was him — her partner, her Chat Noir — who’d been attempting to win her heart and she’d accep—

No. More than that.

She’d _delighted_  in.

The first thing she’d done was burst into tears, which had terrified Adrien up until he’d heard her laugh. Next (after she’d thrown her arms around his neck, weeping and giggling and murmuring, “Oh thank _god_ ,” over and over again into his collar bone) she’d reared back, slugging him across the shoulder and chastising him for being so careless in hiding his kwami.

Then she’d kissed him.

 _Oh_  how she’d kissed him.

And she hadn’t stopped kissing him for nearly three months now, a fact Adrien still had trouble processing sometimes. Whether it be surprising him after akuma battles, tackling him during patrols, or showing up at his window at night (which happened at least thrice a week), she never missed an opportunity to shower him in all the kinds word and physical affection his emotionally stunted little heart could ever want.

It was like living in a _dream._  

A perfect, wonderful… often quite _dirty_  dream.

(Listen, two consenting 18-year-olds with hearty libidos and a downright _gag-worthy_  amount of sexual tension built up between them over the years never take long to get busy. No matter how ~romantic~ and ~pure~ their love.)

His girlfriend (as she had become sometime during their whirlwind three months) was back to sucking in earnest now, the small pink marks she’d left scattered along his thighs pulsing with the blood with his thundering heart sent singing through his veins with every frenzied pulse. Her hands took care of what her mouth could not, stroking and squeezing with a practiced ease, and it wasn’t long before Adrien felt that familiar coil of tension build.

“ _Ah_ — almost there,” he huffed, abs tightening and quivering as hot desire pooled in the pit of his groin.

It was an unnecessary cue at this stage in their relationship, she knew his body well enough to tell when he was close, but Adrien still insisted on warning her each time his orgasm grew near.

Just in case she wanted him to finish somewhere _other_ than her mouth for once.

(She never had.

He still liked to check.)

His breathless pants, interspersed with curses and sweet words of love, were nearly drowned out by the lewd sounds of her increasing her pace — wet, vulgar sucking noises that echoed in the cavernous room and muffled hums that buzzed along his cock as she took him deeper and deeper down her throat. Adrien wound a hand through her right pigtail, bobbing with the motion of her head, and with one last skillful flick of her tongue that ever-building swell of heat _finally_  crested across his body.

His hips jerked up in a single shuddering thrust, balls twitching and lips parting to exhale a rapturous _“Marinette!”_

…

Which would be fine in most cases.

In most cases, moaning the name of the woman he loved as he climaxed would be perfectly acceptable. Encouraged even!

…Too bad Marinette wasn’t the one currently kneeling between his thighs with a mouth-full of his cum.

(Kinda.)

Ladybug stared up at him in disbelief, eyes like saucers beneath her ever-present mask. If she noticed the tendril of spit and… well… _other_  hanging from the edge of her lips, she didn’t remark on it, instead blinking fast with an expression that might have been anything from shock to turmoil to full-on rage.

Adrien idly wondered if he could make to the bathroom before her with his pants around his ankles.

“Wuh—“

Ladybug took a moment to swallow the load on her tongue, gloved hand swiping the slickness from her mouth as she rocked back onto her heels.

“What did you just say?”

“I… uh…”

_‘Quick Agreste! Think of something that rhymes with Marinette that one might moan in ecstasy!’_

“I said… clarinet?”

Ladybug’s eye narrowed into a look of _you’ve got to be kidding me._

Damn, it didn’t look like she bought it.

Think! What the fuck was he supposed to say in this situation?!

_“Hey there Bugaboo, funny story! I’ve actually known your secret identity since the week you found out mine! I’ve just been keeping it from you so you don’t get upset and leave me to die alone! So what do you say? How about we forget I said anything and proceed to cuddle for a couple hours?”_

Something told him he wasn’t about to get out of this _that_ easily.

Adrien heaved a defeated sigh, bending over to yank his pajama pants back up.

(This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with his dick out.)

“C’mere,” he said, pulling Ladybug from her crouch and depositing her at his side.

A moment passed in which he tried to gather his thoughts, but by the time he’d come up with something to say, she was already speaking.

“You said Marinette’s name,” Ladybug observed, her tone guarded and her expression blank.

Adrien nodded, treading lightly. “I did.”

Her mouth twitched, and he could tell she was chewing her lip from the inside.

“Were you…” She cleared her throat, fidgeting. “Were you thinking about her?”

Adrien almost, _almost_  laughed at the subtle jealousy in her voice. If not for the fact they were in the middle of a very precarious, very overdue discussion, he may well have.

Their eyes met, a million tiny different conversations flowing between them as the pair silently battled over who would say it first.

She knew what was going on.

He knew she knew what was going on.

She knew he knew and he knew she knew he-

“I was thinking about you,” Adrien said at last, acknowledging the polka-dotted elephant in the room.

Ladybug — Marinette — slumped into the couch.

“How long have you known?” she asked wearily, the look in her eye unreadable to him.

“Since New Years Eve.” Her jaw popped open. “But swear I wasn’t trying to look! You just accidentally chose the wrong side of the chimney to de-transform on.”

Internal lip chewing turned to external lip gnawing, and Adrien was caught between wanting to bat her teeth away with a _tsk_ or soothe the abused skin with a tender kiss.

He probably shouldn’t have been as calm as he was — this was a major turning point in his and Ladybug’s relationship — but he’d had _weeks_  to process and accept this information.

Truth be told, her reveal hadn’t even been all that earth-shattering to him. Sure he’d been conflicted at first, pacing his room wondering whether or not to confess what he’d seen, but never shocked at the revelation.

Ladybug — his sweet, strong, beautiful partner — was Marinette: his sweet, strong, beautiful classmate.

Only an idiot would be surprised (or, God forbid, _disappointed_ ) by that turn of events.

“Are you mad?”

Adrien withdrew from his thoughts, watching as his girlfriend did her best impression of remote trying to slip between the couch cushions.

“Why would I be mad?” he asked, frowning slightly at the way she continued to gnaw. The urge to save her plush lower lip from destruction was un-quellable this time around, and Ladybug startled a bit as his thumb pulled gently at her chin.

“I mean,” she said, a subtle pink rising to her cheeks, “are you mad at me for not telling you? Even after I found out you were Chat Noir?”

Adrien’s hand found her own, twining their fingers together as he raised her palm to his lips. “You told me you wanted to keep your identity a secret and I told you I was fine with that…”

He pressed a long, slow, _joyful_  kiss to his Lady’s hand, hoping to impress upon how much of a non-disaster this whole situation was. How happy — nay, _ecstatic_  he was to know she was the one who loved him.

“…Even if I _am_  a bit confused as to why you’d want to keep such an amazing identity to yourself.”

Ladybug’s flush deepened, reminding Adrien yet again why red was his very favorite color in the world. “And you… you’re okay with me being Marinette?”

Hearing her say her own name, irrevocably confirming what he’d known to be true for some time now, was _indescribably_  satisfying to him. A validation he didn’t even know he craved. Overcome with the need to be close to her — close to his love, close to his Marinette — Adrien drew her into his lap, trapping the smaller girl in a cage comprised of all four limbs he wrapped around her.

“My Lady,” he declared, voice as bright and bubbly as the kisses he pecked all over her pigtailed head, “I am _elated_. There is no one else on earth I would have preferred you to be more than the sweet…”

A kiss to her forehead.

“…talented…”

A kiss to her cheek.

“…drop-dead _sexy_ …”

She snorted at his eyebrow waggle.

“…Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Though she murmured something about him being an insufferable flirt, Ladybug hardly seemed bothered by his sentiments. At least, not in the 'uncomfortable' sense of the word.

(The way she shifted on his lap, straddling him as she drew him into a deep kiss, proved that maybe she was a bit bothered in the physical sense.)

“Can I see you?” Adrien asked once she’d relinquished his mouth, head swimming with delirious joy and heart lighter without the burden of a secret weighing upon it.

Ladybug giggled, lightly flicking the tip of his nose. “I’m right here, Chaton. Do you need your eyes checked?”

He rolled his perfectly functioning eyes. “Not what I meant.”

She teased him for only a moment more, offering to help him pick out glasses the next time he left the house, but eventually her laughter subsided and she slid off his lap.

Adrien pulse pounded at the sight of Ladybug standing proudly before him, fixing her bangs as she took a deep breath. Despite knowing who exactly would take her place once the magic wore off, he couldn’t help but scoot to the edge of his seat, hands wringing in excitement.

After all these years of secrecy, they’d finally made it here. The point of no mysteries, no excuses, and no pseudonyms.  

Ladybug cleared her throat. “Tikki, Spots—“

Her jaw clicked shut, hand slamming against her forehead.

“Oh no. Oh no no no no _no.”_

“What?” Adrien asked, a sudden worry tying his guts up in knots. He stood. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did you forget something? What can I do?”

Ladybug buried her face into her hands, head plopping down on his chest as muttered between her fingers. “I’m not… I didn’t think…”

She groaned piteously.

“I’m wearing a gross t-shirt and underwear with holes in them underneath this.”

Adrien laughed. He couldn’t help it.

The way she carried on, as if her wardrobe choices alone would usher in the end of the times, was just too hilarious. Too endearing. Too…

“Marinette,” he sighed, snickering as she swatted his shoulder, “you could be wearing a potato sack and I’d never think less of you.”

He drew her out from her hiding place, freeing her lip from where she had yet again taken it hostage between her teeth.

“Besides,” Adrien continued in a low drawls, hands smoothing down her sides and mind running through the many fun… *ahem*… _activities_  her suit had never allowed them to try in the past. “I don’t intend to let you wear much of _anything_  for very long…”

All at once, Ladybug’s eyes lidded, expression shifting from disgruntled to desirous in half an instant. Her words unfaltering, she called for her de-transformation, and it wasn’t five seconds later that one Marinette Dupain-Cheng (in all her oversized t-shirt and ratty panties glory) was pulling him towards the bed.

He hadn’t been expecting her to come that night.

But _boy_  was he glad she did.


End file.
